


For The Best

by TheatreGirl79



Category: Avengers
Genre: F/M, Mild Language, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-09-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 21:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheatreGirl79/pseuds/TheatreGirl79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Love is for children."</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Best

Clint turned his head, scanning his eyes along the brunette mane that draped across his shoulder. His look traveled back along her hair, up her arm, to her wrist, her hand obscured by her head. She breathed heavily, in a deep sleep. 

He sighed and turned his head away, memorizing the crack in her bedroom wall near the ceiling.

What was he doing here? Nat was right - there was no room for even an attempt at love in the lives they led. All Claire would end up being was a several night shag, and he couldn’t bring himself to face her with that fact. Sure, assassins and dictators he could face and kill them without a second thought, but Claire... he had done the unthinkable. He had given her hope.

She let out a whistled sigh and Clint’s head snapped back towards her, thinking she was awake. Instead she let out a long breath, her eyes still closed, and moved her head, burying her face even more in the pillowcase. Clint disentangled his arms and legs from around her body, moving steadily, making it seem like he was just moving in his sleep as well.

Sitting up, he swung his legs out from under the blankets, his bare feet getting chilled by the hardwood floor. Clint moved the blankets aside, tucking them around Claire, and stood up. He picked up his clothes from the floor, hurrying into the bathroom. After taking a piss, Clint washed up in the sink basin with Claire’s soft, pink washcloth and lavender soap. He stopped, washcloth against his growing stubble, as he caught his face in the mirror. Looking away quickly, he rinsed the cloth out and draped it over the side of the tub.

Clint slipped into his clothes in no time flat, and pulled his mobile phone out of the side pocket. Flipping it open, he quickly scanned the message from Coulson. To anyone else it would seem like a normal message from a brother, or a cousin, but Clint knew what it meant. _He was being pulled. Now._

Flipping off the bathroom light, Clint softly padded down the hall back to the bedroom and grabbed his small duffel bag, flinging it over his right shoulder, not caring how heavy it was. He peeked out the drawn curtain to the street three stories below, and swore he saw someone move in the shadows. A small breath escaped his lips as he realized he probably did. Nothing he could do for Claire now.

Turning back towards the bed, Clint started to reach out for one last touch, one last caress, something to tie him to this place and time. He stilled his hand and withdrew it, stuffing the sudden fist into the pocket of his jeans. He couldn’t do it. Instead he turned on his heels and made his way down the hallway and out her back door. 

It really was for the best, or so he kept reminding himself.


End file.
